Page 73 of Poetry of Flowers

My words were slow and quiet, I didn’t like belting my songs out. When I sang, I sang from within my soul, my eyes closed.

“The wind took the bird away from me

I was meant to be a lonely man

Until your feathers brushed my soul

Oh sweet bird, oh sweet bird.”

I lowered my voice so that the lyrics of the chorus almost harmonized with the chords.

“Why are you up in the air?

And why’s there nothing I can do

A puddle of pain under my shoe

Chasing a bird that flew.”

Everyone’s eyes were on me when I looked up, still playing the last chords, like I was born to do it, just like I was born to breathe or to eat and drink. I looked only at Tillie when I sang the last few lines that I had just made up in my head.

“I gotta run, sweet bird, gotta run back where I came from.

But there’s no home without you

A field full of wilting flowers

Oh, sweet bird

My sweet bird, don’t leave me

Searching for your shadow of peace.”

And with that, I let the last melody fade away. As soon as our eyes met, Tillie caught a tear with the cuff of her shirt and looked away.

Oh, sweet bird.

I got pulled out of my thoughts by the children clapping and jumping up and down.

“Hey twins, stop jumping, or we have to take a break!” Devon called from the front. The kids kept jumping as if the bus was a trampoline.

“Gotta pee!” Sean called, letting himself drop to the floor, looking at me.

“Is the sweet bird your girlfriend?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“Daddy told me animals are always a— what’s that word? Metupi— medone— Me—.”

I scoffed, “Metaphor?”

“Yes! Daddy says animals are always a metaphor in music.”

“Your dad is wrong, there are lots of songs where animals are just animals,” I told him, shrugging my shoulders trying to think of any songs that were truly just about animals.

“But not for you. You got those eyes.” Sean pointed at his own eyes to show me what he meant.

“What do you mean by those eyes?”

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